


In the Forest

by Senka Hitomi (LadyTegan)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Missions Gone Wrong, Post-Canon, Yamanaka Ino-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27787777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTegan/pseuds/Senka%20Hitomi
Summary: When the genius of Konoha returns from a mission in a catatonic state, it is up to his old teammate to delve into the depths of his mind and pull him back out. But the dangers of the mind are many, and the road to finding him may be more difficult than she could have imagined.
Relationships: Nara Shikamaru/Yamanaka Ino
Comments: 25
Kudos: 60





	1. A Singular Problem

_The lights flicker, dim, dimmer until, at last, they are no more than a spark._

* * *

Ino Yamanaka was not expecting to be called to the Hokage's office that morning. Today was a rare day off, both from the typical obligations of her duties as a shinobi and from work at her parent's shop. She was only two days back from a particularly grueling mission, but she had already filed the report—there was no reason it should have been something to talk to Tsunade about.

So, when the missive came, marked with the official seal, she could already tell that something was not right.

She made her way through a sea of somber faces as she passed through the hallway that led to Tsunade's office. They all wore the same expression of grim determination, the same weary gazes. A few caught her eyes sympathetically before looking away. That only unsettled her more. Ino quickened her pace instinctively.

She had almost reached the office by the time that she began to get an idea of the extent of the problem. Just outside the Hokage's door stood a familiar shaking figure, his wide face blanched sheet white. As Ino approached, Chouji raised his eyes to meet hers. His typical genial familiarity was all but gone, replaced by a quiet fear. When she raised a questioning eyebrow, he said nothing, merely shook his head and looked away, too ashamed to hold her gaze.

That confirmed it. Ino practically burst through the door of the Hokage's office.

Tsunade was hunched over her desk, her head pressed between her palms. In front of her lay a single sheet of paper, what looked to be a mission report. She didn't look up as Ino entered the room.

"Come in, and close the door behind you." Tsunade said, beckoning her forward with a fatigued gesture. Ino did as she was told.

When Tsunade finally looked up, Ino almost didn't recognize her. The Hokage was always a little frazzled—a hazard of the job—but Ino had rarely seen her look so… despairing. Worry was etched deep in the lines of her face, furrowing her forehead and wrinkling her mouth in consternation.

"Hokage-sama?"

Tsunade gazed at her, assessing. "Ino… your work with the Interrogation Unit. How has it been going?"

Ino hesitated, but answered honestly. "It's been going well, Tsunade-sama. Ibiki-san says I have a lot of potential, and that, with practice, I'll soon be up to my father's level." The admission was painful, even if it was true. Ino's first few weeks of training in the Interrogation Division had been more difficult than she liked to admit. Every facet of the Interrogation building and the job itself stood as a stark reminder of her father and the gaping absence created by his death.

"Good, good…" Tsunade looked away again, her eyes flickering down to the paper on her desk. When she didn't look back up after a few moments, Ino ventured a step forward.

"Tsunade-sama… if you don't mind my asking… why have you called me here?"

Tsunade looked up at her question, almost as if she were only just noticing Ino's presence for the first time. After a few stretching moments of silent consideration, Tsunade stood up. "Follow me."

* * *

The room Tsunade brought them to was one Ino had never seen before. Buried deep in the heart of the Konoha Hospital, it was large, spacious, and virtually empty, with vast white walls that gave it the air of a holding cell.

Tsunade turned to her assistant, Shizune. "Tell them to bring him."

Ino grew more anxious by the second, her stomach twisting at every other step. Tsunade still had yet to mention the other member of Team Ten—the one who had been conspicuously absent from her office—and her questions about Ino's recent training concerned her. Was Tsunade about to have her perform an interrogation? While Ino had been diligent in her training, she was sure there were other people who were much more qualified to handle such a task. And if it _was_ an interrogation, why conduct it in the hospital of all places? Ino was given little time to consider the question—Shizune returned within moments with a couple of medics by her side, and all of Ino's worst fears were confirmed the instant she realized who Tsunade meant by "him".

If nothing else, the untamable dark hair was instantly recognizable. On first glance, Ino wasn't sure what to think—there was nothing outwardly changed. But when she really looked at him, the panic was so overwhelming that she almost couldn't breathe. Physically, everything did appear to be fine. His skin was, perhaps, a shade paler than usual, but otherwise, he had no injuries and looked to be in perfect health.

It was his eyes. They were wrong. His eyes were open, but he saw nothing. Gone were the calculating black beads with their fathomless depths. They were glazed over, utterly devoid of any awareness.

_Shikamaru is..._

Ino shot forward, a cry escaping her lips, but Tsunade's hand closed around her upper arm, anchoring her in place. Ino fought against the grip, but it was rock solid, strong as a vice.

"Ino, I need you to be calm." "

But…" Ino kept struggling. Why would Tsunade not just let her go? "What happened to him? Who did this? We've got to do something, we can't just—"

" _Ino_."

The authoritative force of Tsunade's voice was enough to make her stop thrashing. "What happened?" The words came out softly, broken, barely more than a whisper.

"We don't know. Chouji reported to us that Shikamaru had been captured by some enemy-nin during their most recent mission, but by the time the team was able to rescue him, he was already in this state."

"Is he…" Ino found herself unable to finish the sentence.

"He is alive." Tsunade emphasized the word, and Ino relaxed in her grip. "But he's... unresponsive. We have no idea what they did to him. His vitals are fine for now, but he's in a catatonic state. Hasn't responded to any attempts at external stimulation since he was returned here. Based on the intelligence we received, we think the enemies that captured him were looking to extract intelligence."

Slowly, rationality was returning. The pieces were beginning to click together in Ino's head; she was no Shikamaru, but she was smart enough to put two and two together. "You want me to figure out what's wrong."

Tsunade didn't look at her, but her face said enough. "I was hesitant to ask you to take on this assignment, because I know he is your teammate." Tsunade gazed at him as she spoke, watched as the two medics that had accompanied Shizune and brought Shikamaru to the room eased him into a seated position on the floor. "But the truth is, you are the only one who has the skills necessary to retrieve him. If he's still in there."

"I… are you sure?"

"I have to be." Tsunade gave her a grim smile that didn't meet her eyes. "We need him, Ino. You and Chouji know that better than anyone."

Ino could not deny the truth in that. Even if he was lazy, Shikamaru was the Leaf's best strategist. A true genius. He always had been. "What if I…"

"If you fail, you fail. I know I am asking much of you. And none of us know the extent of the damage. It may be that you will not even be able to penetrate the outermost layer of his mind. And, of course, if it is an issue of your own safety, you are to get out as quickly as possible. I will not lose two valuable shinobi in the effort to save one." 

Ino swallowed dryly. "How soon?"

"As soon as you feel you're ready."

* * *

_In the darkness, a candle sparks to life. For one brief shining instant, it glows, but then is extinguished._

_He is returned to the darkness._


	2. Still Waters Run Deep

_Something stirs. He moves a finger, wanting to stretch toward that faint glimmer, but… no. It is only false hope, a figment of his imagination._

* * *

Ino entered the room alone. Taking measured steps, she crossed to the center to sit in front of Shikamaru. He was slumped forward where the medics had settled him, unresponsive. His gaze should have met hers when she sat down, but it remained utterly blank. The dark eyes, normally so very alive, looked…

She couldn't bring herself to say what it was they looked like.

Ino almost stretched out a hand, itching to touch his cheek, just to ascertain that he was, in fact, still alive. But then she remembered that the entire process was being observed and Tsunade was already concerned about how her emotional attachments might impact the job she was about to do. Her hand fell back to her side, lingering in the air for only the tiniest instant. This wasn't the time for foolish sentimentality. Tsunade had given her a job, and she was duty-bound to fulfill it.

Taking a deep breath, she began the seals. She moved through them fluidly, the movements rehearsed a thousand times in training and on the battlefield. There was only the slightest tremor in her hand when she raised it to his forehead.

* * *

Ino's eyes snapped open, and it took her a moment to reorient herself.

She silently ran through her basic training from the Interrogation unit. Every mind was different, but most had the same basic structure: an outer layer, where all the superficial knowledge was kept; a middle layer, where the more complex goals and emotions were stored; and finally a well-hidden inner layer, replete with the person's closest-kept secrets. The structure occasionally presented itself in different ways, but essentially, every mind was the same.

Supposedly. Ino blinked at her surroundings, wondering if she'd made some kind of serious error. _Where_ am _I?_

The view that greeted her was nothing like she had anticipated. She had encountered the minds of individuals whose outer layer was an open landscape, this was…

_What… is this place?_

A white sky stretched above her, unbroken by even a single cloud. Below it, a vast expanse of water stretched out in all directions, reflecting the milky sky back upon itself with an eerie glow. The only visible piece of land was the island on which Ino now found herself, little more than a hill of white sand. Beyond her, not so much as a single ripple disturbed the water's surface.

Ino did a quick circle around the island, but the view was the same from every side. Everywhere, that endless pearlescent sea, mirroring the sky above it. She had to repress a shiver as she gazed out on the expanse. What kind of a place was this, to be a layer of someone's mind? Most people's minds were so cluttered, even on the surface level, which was often the calm before the storm of the innermost layer. The calm here was unnerving.

Then a thought struck her about the strangeness of this place.

_What if this isn't how it normally is?_

That idea scared her more than the entire barren horizon.

Leaning down, she scooped up some of the sand, letting it run through her fingers. It fell away in a rapid stream, sliding soundlessly back onto the surface of the island. When the last of it tumbled from her palm, she examined it again. It was as though not a single grain had been disturbed.

Making a quick loop around the surface of the island, she quickly determined that the sand always remained the same. No footprints followed in the wake of her circuits; even when she kicked the sand, the perfect dome returned within moments.

Frustrated, Ino flopped to the ground, running a hand through her hair.

"I wasn't trained for _this._ " She muttered.

It wasn't as though she was unfamiliar with entering someone's mind. Even before her father's passing, she had worked a little with the Interrogation Unit—albeit not with any consistency—learning his techniques, figuring out how she could use her own skills to extract information. Ibiki had been hesitant to formalize her training after the war, but Ino had insisted. Regardless of the dangers it entailed, she knew in her heart of hearts that it was what her father would have wanted. It was what _she_ wanted.

And she was good at it. In the short months she'd been working, she had become one of the most requested interrogators in the village. And while it could be terrifying, entering the mind of stranger, there was also an element of challenge to it. Every mind was a puzzle—she just needed the right components to solve it. Once she had the basic formula, it was only a matter of figuring out the various iterations, applying the principles in new and exciting ways.

But this… she threw a handful of sand out at the water as far as it would go, but it was like she'd done nothing at all. It made no impact on the still surface, and when she looked back to where she had run her hands through the sand, there were no lines.

Standing up again, Ino gazed out at the sea around her, resolve tightening in her chest.

She was _going_ to figure this out.

* * *

Chouji sat by the Hokage's side, his hands pressed so hard against the sill of the viewing window that his knuckles had gone white, all the blood drained away. On the other side of the glass, his teammates sat face-to-face, still and silent.

"How long has it been?"

Tsunade let out a punctuated sigh. "It's only been three minutes since the last time you asked me."

Chouji blanched, lowering his head. "I apologize, Hokage-sama."

Tsunade nodded distractedly. It wasn't as though she could chastise the boy without making a hypocrite of herself. Truth be told, she was just as nervous as he was—she just wasn't at liberty to display it.

She hadn't expected this to be a simple process. Stories about this sort of ailment had passed through the shinobi ranks for years—and they rarely ended well. But she couldn't afford to think that this was like all the stories she'd heard. It just couldn't be. Her fist clenched reflexively. She couldn't lose _another_ one.

Each minute that ticked by seemed like an eternity. Every minute flicker of movement registered in Tsunade's mind; she was ready to spring at the first sign of progress, and she knew Chouji would be just as eager.

_I have to be calm_ , she reminded herself. _There's a reason I trusted Ino to do this. Ibiki has told me she's the best there is, and she_ knows _Shikamaru. I trust her. I trust them both. She'll make it out. She'll make it out, and she'll bring Shikamaru back with her._

_She has to._

* * *

There was no sun to mark the passage of time, but Ino felt like she'd been at it for hours: circling, kicking, yelling Shikamaru's name, at first by itself and then followed by a colorful stream of expletives.

None of it seemed to be helping. It only angered her more when she realized that perhaps all of this was purposeful, a mechanism to keep out nosy teammates with powerful clan jutsu. That kind of obstinacy wouldn't surprise her in the least. She could just see Shikamaru's smug face, could perfectly picture the bastard's wry grin as she railed at him with every ounce of anger in her being—

… _blank eyes staring at her, unseeing._

The brief memory silenced her anger.

Refocusing, Ino decided to try a different tactic. She walked out onto the water, balancing on the surface. It held her with no trouble, undisturbed by her presence. She moved farther out with deliberate steps, allowing herself to explore further but always keeping an eye on the island. She didn't want to find herself completely stranded.

The water—if she could even call it that—was completely opaque. When she leaned down to touch it, her finger disappeared beneath the surface.

"Baka, what _have_ you done?" The question echoed out into the air, unanswered.

Ino paced the water's surface, growing more frustrated by the minute. She had officially run out of protocols from standard training. This was like no mind she had ever encountered before. And the most infuriating part of it was this should have been easier to understand than the mind of a stranger—Shikamaru was her teammate, after all. The whole reason Tsunade had chosen her for this mission was because she supposedly knew him. A lot of good that knowledge was doing her now…

Ino stopped, frozen by the thought. _Am I really_ that _much of an idiot?_

She had been approaching it completely wrong. She had been treating this like any other one of her hundred puzzles, a simple cipher, unlocked with a single key.

But this was _Shikamaru_. Of course his was like no mind she had ever seen. Shikamaru was a genius. She ought to be lucky that this layer hadn't tried to kill her outright. Most people even remotely familiar with her clan jutsu wouldn't have hesitated to barb the first layer of their minds, preventing any unwanted invaders the moment they entered. It was all there in the basic training: the more complex the person, the more detailed the layers of the mind. It brought to mind something her father had once said about Shikaku.

"The man has a mind like a steel trap." He had groused, recounting the one unpleasant experience he'd had trying to access Shikaku's mind. "And, believe me, in his case, that's not just an expression."

Ino shook her head. She could figure this out. She just had to think like Shikamaru.

Well, what would he expect from an invader in his head? He'd expect a shinobi, that much was certain. He would know to keep the first layer simple, deceptively simple, to make progress utterly impossible for someone who didn't know him…

And then it clicked.

Ino looked back at the island, then up at the white sky above. The sand didn't matter one bit—that was why it always returned to the same static formation. But the sky and the water… _those_ were the keys.

After all, she thought, where was Shikamaru constantly? Lying on his back, out in some field, cloud-gazing. His mind, forever stuck in the clouds.

So, that was where he was. But she couldn't simply get to the sky. _That_ was where the water came in; why else would there be such a perfect mirror?

And he'd expect a shinobi. That was the final piece.

Taking a deep breath, Ino prayed that she was right, released the chakra suspending her feet on the surface, and fell.

* * *

_There is a glimmer, like sunlight cast on the water._

_The candle flickers again, the faintest flame singeing the darkness._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again with a cleaned-up chapter two. I can't tell you how happy it makes me that some folks are still excited about/invested in this fic after all these years. You're all amazing, and I hope this lives up to your expectations.


	3. Caverns of Light and Shadow

_The candle pulses in the blackness, seeking its own kind. But there, in isolation, there are no others to be found._

* * *

Aching all over and completely soaked, Ino sat up, blinking as she adjusted to the sudden change in lighting. Where the light had been almost blinding up above, she was now in almost complete darkness—the only faint signs of light emanated from somewhere far in the distance.

 _Trust it to Shikamaru._ She thought wryly. _Only he would think of something so completely simple. Practically the first thing you learned in training as a Genin is the technique for balancing on the water. For an experienced shinobi, it's second-nature. They would never think of actually entering the water._

Ino tried to focus on her new surroundings, but her head was still spinning from the fall. It took a few moments before she had even a semblance of clarity, and even when her eyes adjusted, it revealed precious little.

She scowled.

"I swear, when I find you, Shikamaru…"

She had only mumbled the statement, but she stopped when she realized that her voice was being amplified and carried down the thin corridor ahead of her. It bounced off the walls and away from her, slowly fading into nothingness.

"Hello?"

At her normal volume, the echo was practically deafening. Ino cringed at the sound, half-covering her ears.

Then she waited for a moment, listening. Above her, a few drops of water dripped down, hitting the floor with a distinct echo. She held her hand out, trying to get some idea of where it was coming from, but even stretching as far as she could, she felt nothing.

Though she had no idea of the ceiling's clearance, she decided to risk standing. Using a hand to balance, she tried to push herself upward, but she instantly crumpled to the ground, a wave of pain radiating up her arm. Her quiet shriek bounced out and away into the distance.

She felt her wrist—it was tender in several spots, bruised at the least, and possibly fractured.

 _I must have fallen on it,_ she realized. _But then again… I'm not actually here_. _I shouldn't be feeling physical injuries._ That was a problem.

Pushing that thought to the back of her mind, Ino lifted herself up, using her good hand for leverage. Knowing she could be injured here would do her no good if she didn't figure out where _here_ was.

She put a hand on the wall near where she had fallen. Water trickled down in rivulets, redirecting over and around her hand. The surface beneath was smooth as glass, no doubt worn down by the steady flow of water.

Ino traced her fingers along the length of the wall, treading carefully toward the faint source of light that she'd seen earlier. At first, there was no change; the wall remained smooth, and she had no trouble finding her footing, though the floor was a little slippery where she had first fallen. But as she progressed, the grain of the wall grew increasingly rough beneath her fingers, jagged as rock. Eventually she had to pull her hands away, fearing that she would draw blood on her fingers if she continued to drag them across the wall.

The light too was changing; growing brighter by the moment, it was not the blinding brilliance of the island world above, but more of a glowing luminescence. At first, Ino thought she might be reaching the end of a tunnel, but then she turned a corner.

She had to blink a few times to clear her sight, just to confirm that she was actually seeing what she thought she was seeing. But there it was, laid out in front of her clear as day.

Scattered across the walls of this corridor lay the most expansive collection of rough gems she had ever seen in one place. From cracks in the surface, bits of ruby, emerald, sapphire and countless others shone out, interspersed with the rock—Ino didn't even recognize some of them. The ones closest to her were the roughest, only small glints of color shining out here and there. The little polished surface that showed through was dull.

Ino put a hand on the wall, but then pulled it back just as quickly. Touching the rock was like someone had sent a shock through her fingertips, straight up her spine. Her head was fuzzy, and for the barest moment, she had felt elated and utterly despondent at the same time, a horrifying jumble of emotion.

When she recovered her mental faculties again, she looked back at the wall, trying to make some sense of the feeling. There didn't seem to be an electrical charge running through the rock, but she did notice that the place where she'd placed her hand was an intersection, a place where two different types of stone met and merged. Testing a theory, she stuck just one finger out.

Touching only one type of stone was similar to the feeling she'd experienced just moments before, but this time, she didn't feel like someone was trying to rip her brain apart from the inside. It just felt… muddled. She got a vague sense of despair, like someone had blown a grey fog all around her, obscuring her vision and sapping the strength from her limbs. It took great effort to peel her hand away from the wall.

_So each one is different._

Shaking the last remnants of stupor away from herself, Ino continued down the wall, to the place where the gems were more exposed, smoothed down by some unseen force. As she progressed through the cavern, they began to reflect the light, producing flickering images that faded like phantasms. She tried to catch a glimpse of one, but it slipped away from her, just a trick of the light.

Or so she thought, until she reached the second bend in the cavern.

Here, the gems did not merely reflect the light; they reflected images that weren't there. Shadows of faces played across their surfaces, cast in gold and green, red and blue and darkest black. And in the shadows, she began to see things she recognized.

In a smaller red gem, she watched a battle played out, watched as some shinobi succeeded while others made fatal mistakes. Some faces were familiar, but only had a passing recognition, names she had seen on a mission report somewhere.

She moved onto the next one. Reflected in the surface of a large green crystal, she watched Asuma and Kurenai's daughter take her first steps, toddling across the floor before falling back with a snaggle-toothed grin. In the background, Kurenai grinned with pride, tilting her head and mouthing words so that she seemed to be speaking directly to Ino, but no sound came out.

 _Like she would be if she were speaking to Shikamaru._ Ino realized. So did that mean these were memories?

In the same instant, she dismissed the idea. These couldn't be memories; Kurenai's daughter was mere months old, nowhere near walking yet.

So then… what _were_ these?

* * *

Tsunade stared through the glass, having mostly adjusted to the sound of Choji's soft snores. He had fallen asleep in the corner, slumped across a chair and supported by the wall. Tsunade had tried to send him home multiple times during the day, but each time, he refused more vehemently, insisting that he was going to be here when Ino and Shikamaru returned. Tsunade couldn't help but admire his optimism—though she would continue to encourage him to leave the hospital for a short time when he woke, it wasn't her first priority to dash his hopes.

Listening to the even rhythm of his snoring only reinforced how tired Tsunade herself was. She felt as though she'd been awake for days. It had truly only been about twelve hours, but neither Ino nor Shikamaru had so much as twitched, and she was starting to get anxious. She had known going in that this would not be an easy process, but…

Her thoughts were disrupted by the opening of a door, and a short, imperious figure strode through, her unruly hair waving gently as she walked.

"So?"

Tsunade suppressed a sigh; while Anko Mitarashi was excellent at her job, her timing was often… less than ideal.

"We've not received anything in the last twelve hours, but that's not to say that she hasn't had successes. The monitors show her brain function is normal, and his is relatively unchanged from what it was before she started."

Anko pulled up a chair, raising an eyebrow as she looked at the pair in the next room.

" _Relatively_ unchanged?"

 _Trust her to catch that_ , Tsunade thought wearily.

"We've had a few small spikes in activity."

"And you don't think that's significant?!" Anko practically shrieked, and Tsunade glared at her, gesturing at Choji, who merely grunted and turned in his sleep. Anko frowned, but she lowered her voice. "And you don't think it's important that he's showing spikes in brain activity?"

"Of course it is," Tsunade muttered tiredly, massaging her forehead. Twelve hours doing nothing but staring through glass was making her head ache. "But what are we supposed to do about it? Anko, you work with the Intelligence Division. You know as well as I that that girl in there is the only one who would be able to make any sense of what we're seeing out here. And she's rather busy at the moment."

"Yes," Anko acknowledged slowly, "but we can't sit around waiting for her forever. You give her an ultimatum?"

"Only vaguely."

"So how long are you actually giving her?"

Tsunade paused, unsure if she wanted to admit this, even to herself.

"Three days."

"That means we're one-sixth of the way there." Anko calculated, glancing at Tsunade to confirm her assessment.

Tsunade merely nodded.

"And if she doesn't get out in that time?"

Tsunade flexed her hands against the window sill, her mouth settling into a grim line.

"Then things get complicated."

* * *

 _Possibilities._ The answer came unbidden to Ino; she realized it before she had really even processed all the evidence. For a moment, she felt as though Shikamaru were standing behind her, whispering the answer in her ear.

Ino looked at the other gems, each one a short scenario playing itself out. Some she was able to make sense of, but others were so abstract as to be impossible, mere snatches of images repeating over and over. Each one was a picture of what might be, the thousand scenarios that the genius of the Hidden Leaf was playing out at any given moment. The rougher gems were mere emotional possibilities – happy ending, sad ending. The gems she saw now were more focused, more tempered. Time and experience had made them sharper, more defined.

There was one that captured Ino's attention above all, and she couldn't quite place why she kept coming back to it, other than that it unsettled her. The scene was simple enough—seen through Shikamaru's eyes, it was a conversation with Temari of Suna. She said something scornful, or so it seemed, and then watched as he replied, responding with a short bark of laughter. Then she laid a hand on his shoulder, murmuring something unintelligible, and she… _smiled_. It was the smile that made Ino's stomach drop, the same way it always had when she had heard Asuma-sensei praise the technique of another kunoichi of their year. There was something… wrong about it, though she was not ready to admit what it was.

For a moment, irrational anger came over her. What right did Temari have to be smiling at him that way? Was _she_ the one probing the depths of his mind to save the idiot? Before she could allow rationality to return, Ino's hand clenched into a fist and she threw a blow at the wall, temporarily forgetting the sheer stupidity of the action.

Mid-swing, she realized that punching a wall of solid rock was at least going to bruise her knuckles, if not worse. Not to mention the fact that she'd been stupid enough to use the hand that was already injured. But it was too late to pull the punch, so she gritted her teeth against the impact, willing herself through the pain.

Her fist connected, and for an instant, she felt an excruciating pain, but then it drained and her arm went numb, just as it had the first time she'd touched the rock. This time, she was not overwhelmed by the sensation—instead, the numbness spread up her arm, until slowly, she began to feel herself fading, as if the act of touching the wall was slowly causing her to dwindle from existence. Slowly, she began to forget who she was, where she was, ceasing to be anything but air and solid, a loose lattice of barely coherent connections.

" _Ino?" Shikamaru's baritone was clear._

" _What did you call me?" Temari's response was immediate, and decidedly not happy._

Ino recognized those voices—and in an instant, she was flying back from the wall, landing on her wrist again, and she cried out in pain, sharply reintroduced to reality.

 _Was I…_ in _the possibility?_ Her head swam, and she cradled her wrist, wishing she knew why physical injuries were manifesting this strongly in what should be a purely mental space. But even the pain was not enough to keep her from wondering about what had just happened. She had touched the possibility, and she had begun to fade. Like in that reality, she was…

 _Like in that world, he was forgetting me_ , she realized. Until she had inserted herself into the possibility. _But why would it even matter?_

"Damn it, Shikamaru." She rested her head against her knee. "I don't understand you at all."

For a few moments, she just sat on the ground, trying to catch her breath. 

From her new vantage point, she could see that the gems lined the cavern from floor to ceiling, going beyond even where she could see. As she stared, she began to notice veins in the rock, milky lines running through the field of light and dark. Standing slowly, she traced the main line with her eyes, quickening her pace as she followed it down the corridor. The discovery quickened the flow of blood through her veins—something about this felt right. Felt important. How had she not noticed it before?

She walked for what seemed like hours, her gaze trained on the faint glimmer. She was nearly ready to collapse by the time she finally found the place where the lines converged. An enormous crack in the rock revealed a gem that was almost clear and reflected light like a mirror. Careful not to get too close, Ino surveyed the fissure.

In the bright surface, two figures sat facing one another, one wan and dark-headed, the other pale and blonde. It took Ino a few seconds to realize that she what she was looking at was not some nebulous projection of the future, but…

… _now._

As she neared the rock, she saw her own reflection as well—her light eyes looked hollow, swallowed by dark circles, and she had a cut at her temple that was slowly leaking blood. She put her good hand to her forehead; sure enough, it came away sticky with blood.

Hoping this was not just another trick of her imagination, Ino tentatively stuck her hand out, bloodstained fingers touching the smooth reflective surface.

* * *

_In the darkness, the candle brightens, its own light reflected back upon itself in the smooth surface of a mirror._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of what prompted my return to this fic finally was doing a full rewatch of the series with my roommate. (Her first time watching it--nine months in quarantine has worn down her resolve.) We're in the middle of the chunin arc now, and it honestly surprised me how early we get to see Team Ten really relying on one another so seamlessly. The strength of the trust between Shikamaru and Ino in spite of all their bickering and sniping at one another is a lot of what made me fall so hard for this pairing. That trust is the core of this fic. It's been really lovely to go back and witness that all over again and find myself just as in love with this pairing as I was nearly a decade ago. 
> 
> And it's such a delight to me that so many of you all are still along for the ride all these years later. It's sappy as hell, but I'm more grateful for this community than I'll ever properly be able to express.
> 
> Also, a small note on alterations from the original version of this chapter. Most of the changes are just phrasing, but I did make one factual change. When this was originally written, we didn't know whether Asuma and Kurenai's child was a boy or a girl. (Yes, I'm that old.) So the descriptors/pronouns there have been changed to adhere to canon.


	4. The Mirror

_Even as the candle brightens, the darkness redoubles, threatening closer every moment._

* * *

A pair of hands shook Tsunade roughly awake. The Hokage's office was pitch black, save for the barest sliver of moonlight—still early morning, if she had to guess. Tsunade's gut reaction was to throw a punch at the ill-fated owner of those hands, but the sight of her wild-eyed assistant was enough to stay her hand.

"Tsunade-sama." Shizune was ghost pale, and her hands shook as she removed them from Tsunade's shoulder. "There's something you need to see, immediately."

* * *

For a moment, it didn't seem as though anything had happened.

But then Ino noticed it—the stillness. It was not as though the cavern had been filled with noise, but this place was eerily quiet. Not even the barest hint of sound echoed through the place; even the sound of her breathing was subdued, silenced as soon as it escaped her.

Taking her hand off what had moments ago been the cavern wall, Ino took a step back.

All around her now was white, stretching in every direction, as far as the eye could see. Except, of course, for the object in front of her.

The mirror was not ornate. It had no frame—just a simple looking glass, suspended in thin air at just the right height for Ino to see her full reflection. What she glimpsed there was not what she expected.

The girl who stared out at her from the mirror was a version of herself that she was not sure she had ever been. Mirror-Ino had bright eyes that danced with laughter and a sharp face that seemed to change from menacing to amused within seconds.

Ino took a look at herself, her _real_ self, outside the mirror. Her hair was messy, spilling out of her ponytail and sticking to her forehead where the blood had congealed. She felt the bags beneath her eyes, the signs of sleeplessness and stress wearing away at her flesh. When she lifted her hand, her wrist hurt like all hell, throbbing with a hot, red pain.

So she hadn't gone entirely crazy then—she was certainly _not_ the immaculate girl she saw in the mirror.

She tried to look around, gazing from side to side, but the sight stung her eyes. There was nothing to focus her gaze upon, just layer upon layer of white.

Ino put a hand to her forehead where it was injured. Bruises had started to form around the open wound; when she drew her hand away, a few stray drops of blood came with it, dripping off her fingertips and onto the ground, where they disappeared, sinking into the white as though they had never existed. With a quiet sigh, Ino looked back up at the mirror.

The sight that met her was not the Ino she had glimpsed a moment ago. The image had changed, and this time it was certainly not a reflection. But it was still undeniably her. Slumped on the floor was a limp figure, long blonde hair splayed out around her head. Though it was hard to tell, even glancing closely at the surface of the glass, Ino thought she could detect the faintest hint of breath leaving her chest.

She had never seen it herself, but the scenario was easy enough to recognize. After all, there was a reason that on their very first day of training, Asuma-sensei had assigned Shikamaru to care for her body when she had to use her jutsu.

Still, the sight sent a shock through her.

_Is… is this how it always seems when I use the Mind Transfer? Am I really this defenseless?_

Impulsively, she raised a hand to touch the glass. Considering the last two layers of Shikamaru's mind, it wasn't implausible that this was a similar test—find the way out through whatever reflective surface happened to be on hand.

When she reached out, her hand hit the surface of the mirror, cool to the touch beneath her fingers, but in no way extraordinary. There was no strange sensation like she'd felt with the gems—no shock, no sudden insight. It was just… a mirror?

* * *

Tsunade watched the monitor, frowning.

"Her vitals seem to be steady."

"Yes," Shizune conceded, though her voice was hemmed with barely-checked panic. "But Tsunade-sama… she's _bleeding_."

Tsunade circled the two figures seated in the center of the room. Neither of them had moved for almost nineteen hours, and yet one had blood slowly trickling down her forehead.

"And she doesn't even seem to feel it," Shizune added, gesturing at the drying trail it had left across Ino's temple and cheek. "If she can't feel that, who is to say that she's able to feel anything? What if she doesn't realize she's injured? She could—"

Tsunade shook her head gently. "We're not done yet."

"Tsunade-sama!" All reservations cast aside, Shizune had transitioned to a full-blown screech. "She could be dying!"

Tsunade leaned closer to Ino, carefully schooling her expression. Shizune's concerns were more than valid, but if Tsunade was going to convince her of anything, she couldn't waver. She examined the cut. It was bleeding heavily, but that was more a matter of placement than depth. A short, shallow cut to the forehead—nothing life-threatening.

"Shizune," Tsunade turned around, meeting her apprentice's gaze levelly. "I understand your concern, and I acknowledge its validity. But pulling her out now to treat what appears to be only a minor wound could hurt her further. In ways we might not be able to repair."

Shizune began to stammer a response.

"If we try to bring her back now," Tsunade continued, "we may not cause any damage to her whatsoever. But we might. We might also lose our only chance at getting back our best strategist."

Shizune turned her gaze back to Ino and Shikamaru. Though her panic seemed to have faded, deep-seated worry still shone in her dark eyes. "I suppose you are right, Tsunade-sama." She didn't sound entirely convinced, and Tsunade couldn't blame her.

"However…"

Shizune's head snapped back around.

"That doesn't mean that we shouldn't monitor them more closely. If you see any other signs of injury, I want to be notified immediately. Particularly if it appears to be serious. If there are any spikes in the vitals whatsoever, I expect to hear about it."

Relief crept into Shizune's features. "Yes, Tsunade-sama."

Though Tsunade offered her apprentice a wan smile as she left the room, worry sat like a rock in the pit of her stomach. Injuries sustained from… what? Ino hadn't moved. So why were physical injuries manifesting on her body? In all her years as a medic, Tsunade had never seen anything like it.

With grim resolve, she left the hospital to seek out someone she knew might have a better answer.

* * *

Ino withdrew her hand from the mirror, willing the frustration in her gut to dissipate. But it continued to rise, clawing through her throat and chest. Finally, she just couldn't control it.

"What am I supposed to do, you sick sadist?" The words dissipated as soon as they left Ino's lips, but she poured her anger into the empty air anyway, letting it all out in one explosive bout of fury. "Do you think this is funny? Trapping me in this labyrinth you call a mind?" She slumped to her knees, pounding her uninjured fist against the ground. "Is this some kind of test? Because, if it is, I'm done! I concede, you win, okay? I'm tired of dealing with you and this ridiculous deathtrap, because this just isn't worth it!"

The sudden image of Shikamaru's lifeless eyes flashed through her mind and her stomach dropped. Angry as she was… she shook her head to clear it. She just had to calm down.

_Because if I fail..._

When she looked up, the image in the mirror had changed yet again.

The girl staring back at her from this new reflection looked nothing like her. Though her hair was the same color, it was limp; where Ino's normally vibrant green-blue eyes should have been, dull grayish orbs stared out at her. Perhaps the most shocking change was her figure itself—the Ino in the "mirror" was little more than skin and bones.

Ino lifted her hand to the glass a second time; her nails scratched the surface, but it didn't leave a mark. Hollow eyes stared back at her.

A hint of doubt clawed at her as she met this other Ino's gaze. What if this wasn't the way through? What if this was merely a wrong turn, a trap for any errant intruder? What if these white walls were no more than a prison?

What if she wasn't smart enough to figure this out?

For the first time, Ino began to fear that she had made an enormous mistake.

* * *

_Though the dark pushes in, the flame gathers strength._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I am just floored by the words of encouragement. So glad that you all are continuing to enjoy this story.


	5. The Reflection

_In the darkness, something sluggish stirs. He can almost lift a finger and his ears are ringing with a familiar voice. Something shrill and irritating, but definitely familiar. A panel in front of him flashes, the warm, steady glow of a candle. For a moment, something like recollection touches him, like a hand pressed to his temple._

* * *

Ino sat with her head against her knees, staring at the floor. She'd forgotten how long she'd been sitting there—in this strange half-reality, time seemed irrelevant.

And she was trapped. She had been foolish, she realized, to ever think that she was capable enough for this mission. To think that after only a few months of training, she was prepared to take on the mind of a genius.

But then again, she had been so sure. So sure, that even with her disadvantage, there was one thing she could be absolutely certain of: her ability to understand her teammate.

She had known Shikamaru since they were children; born only one day apart, it had been a running joke between the Nara and Yamanaka clans for years that Shikamaru couldn't have gotten rid of Ino if he'd tried. He had been easy enough to understand as a child; sleepy, disgruntled, yes, but ultimately compliant, he'd often been a reluctant participant in Ino's childhood games. Even during their first year at the Academy, they'd been relatively close. Sure, Shikamaru had found a new friend in Choji, and Ino had become increasingly obsessed with things Shikamaru deemed girly, but Ino still knew where to go to seek out a playmate when she needed one.

Then, Sasuke had happened.

That was the worst part. She knew, deep in her gut, that this wasn't just Shikamaru's stubborn mind keeping her out. If anything, she had facilitated the divide between them. It had been her fault that they'd grown apart. In her sudden obsession with a different dark-haired genius, she'd let her childhood friendship slip into the shadows.

Sasuke was motivated, intriguing, cool—everything that Shikamaru had never been. For his part, Shikamaru had never really done anything to save their friendship either. When Ino redirected her attentions, he hardly seemed to have noticed, more content to stay with their quieter, calmer teammate.

Sure, Ino had seen him in the intervening years. Family dinners and Academy functions were enough to at least keep them within one another's sights. But when she'd been assigned to his team, it hadn't been a happy reunion with an old friend: it was just another hindrance in her quest to win Sasuke over.

But she'd been forced to work with her team, forced to know them even when she was reluctant. She had learned that Chouji's eating wasn't just compulsive, it was also an effort to store chakra. She had learned that behind Shikamaru's laziness lay some sort of loyalty, some sort of protective instinct.

At least, she thought she had been learning.

Drowning in the myriad of missteps, one memory sprang unbidden to the front of Ino's mind. It was the first time they'd really seen Shikamaru's potential, sitting in the stands during their first Chuunin exams, watching him fight Temari. She had been so sure she had seen motivation in him then, so sure he was going to win, because he just _had_ to, had to prove that he wasn't just the lazy boy she'd always known him to be.

But then, of course, he'd forfeited. Choji was quick to point out that Ino, who had been boasting during the entire match about how well she knew her teammate, had been entirely wrong. Admittedly, in the chaos that had shortly followed, there hadn't been much time to think it over, but she had thought about it later, after he had broken the news to them that he had been the only one promoted during the entire ordeal.

She had been wrong, very wrong. And it made her nervous. Shikamaru was the one who had always caught her up to that point, cared for her when she was unconscious. If she didn't know him, then… who was to say she ever knew him?

She'd tried to keep the concern inside, but as usual, it bubbled over and spilled out in the midst of one of their mission, when she'd yelled at Shikamaru for being too lazy to perform some simple task in setting up camp, and it had simply devolved from there. Suddenly, she had descended into yelling at him for never following through, while he sat in front of her, with a vaguely bemused look on his face the only sign he was even listening.

When she finished, he had taken a moment to respond.

"Ino…" If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn there was a hint of concern in his voice. "It's not like I wanted to lose. If I'd thought it was possible to win, I would have. But when you're out of resources, sometimes you have to give up."

That was all he ever said on the matter. Within a few moments, it was like the outburst had never even happened, and Ino had lapsed back into uncomfortable silence. She'd wanted to say something more, but she'd found herself without anything else to say.

Lifting her head from her knees, Ino tried to clear her head and consider her current situation. Maybe she didn't know him as well as she thought, but she did know one thing.

Unlike her teammate, she was not one to just give up.

* * *

Mrs. Yamanaka was a thin woman with a severe mouth that folded down just slightly at the corners. Where Ino was loud and brash, her mother played her cards close to her chest, not even expressing the barest hint of surprise when the Hokage herself showed up on her doorstep. As Tsunade met her gaze, she marveled at how two such stoic people as Inoichi and his wife could possibly have produced a daughter who was so bold and outspoken.

"May I help you, Tsunade-sama?" Mrs. Yamanaka gestured her inside, directing her to a seat in the parlor. A tray of freshly brewed tea was already sitting out, as if she had been expecting Tsunade's visit.

"I've come to ask you about your husband." Tsunade thought it best to cut straight to the chase. Mrs. Yamanaka was not a woman easily fooled, and she knew when she someone was dancing around a subject.

A raised eyebrow and a slight tightening of the mouth were the only signs of discomfort on Mrs. Yamanaka's face. She cleared her throat. "I will help as much as I am able, Tsunade-sama, but I'm afraid if it is mission information you are seeking, much of my husband's work was quite confidential."

Tsunade clucked dismissively. "Be that as it may, I doubt you allowed your husband to keep secrets about his health from you."

That remark elicited a small smile from Mrs. Yamanaka. She took a quick sip of tea before she responded, her hands shaking slightly as she set the cup and saucer back on the table.

"True." Her mouth folded back into a thin line. "This has to do with my daughter, doesn't it?"

Tsunade frowned.

"We would have informed you sooner…"

"…but as a civilian, I am to be kept in the dark as much as possible." Mrs. Yamanaka shrugged lightly. "That is the way of things, after all. Even when my daughter is endangering her life."

Tsunade felt her temper rise, and she almost began to explain how important it was that this particular mission be kept as quiet as possible, but then she watched the woman in front of her for a moment. Mrs. Yamanaka's movements were stiff, and she did not let much slip past her calm façade, but there was pain in her gestures. Her husband had been gone no more than a year.

Tsunade swallowed.

"When your husband returned from interrogation missions, did he ever report physical injuries associated with the interrogations?"

Mrs. Yamanaka tilted her head slightly. "That's a rather strange question."

"I'm aware," Tsunade grumbled.

"Well, he did…" Mrs. Yamanaka's gaze was distant, as if she were calculating. "...but no, I'm not sure that's exactly right."

"What is it?"

"Well," she continued, "he didn't ever complain of it after we were married, but when he once told me that when he was younger, he occasionally got some rather severe headaches. There was one incident in particular…" She paused, her brow furrowing.

"Yes?" Tsunade urged, trying not to sound as desperate as she was.

"He used to say that it only happened when he was dealing with a particular powerful mind. People who…" She made an indistinct gesture with her hands. "…pushed back. Tried to push him out of their minds, that is. Apparently, the worst experience he ever had trying to use his jutsu…"

Mrs. Yamanaka stopped and fixed Tsunade with a flat stare.

"…involved Shikaku Nara."

Tsunade crossed her arms, attempting not to look annoyed.

Mrs. Yamanaka sipped at her tea.

"Now, do you care to tell me what's happening to my daughter?"

* * *

Ino did a full circuit around the mirror—or, at least, what she assumed was a full circuit. The mirror seemed to move with her, always facing her. The reflections flickered, changing every few minutes. She had all but given up on trying to interpret the various iterations of herself, choosing instead to focus on what the mirror was, and how she could get past it.

She put a finger to the glass again, pressing down, but the surface didn't yield. She could try to shatter the glass, but that seemed like a completely terrible idea. Considering the state of her right hand, she was not about to put it through more pain, and injuring the hand that was still intact was just stupid.

"I just have to get the right frame of mind." She reassured herself. "With Shikamaru, it will be something simple, but so simple it seems difficult."

As she mulled it over, she stared at the mirror, letting the images passing her by without really looking at them. A dozen different reflections, each one as strange and baffling as the next, each one different.

_Except..._

Ino stilled her movements and watched for a few minutes, focusing not on her own reflection, but on the one unwavering object in the image: the dark shadow, stretching across the floor.

_Doesn't it ever bother you, working with something that changes so easily?_ Ino had asked him once, watching her own shadow as it preceded her in the road.

Shikamaru had shrugged. _Shadows aren't that changeable. It's the people who change. The shadows just reflect what's going on within them._

Ino had made a face.

_If that was your attempt at being profound, it was really lame._

But she'd still thought about it later, wondered how true it really was. Sometimes she felt like little more than a shadow—insubstantial and insignificant, barely more than a blurry outline of herself…

She crouched down and moved closer to the mirror, blinking as the reflection changed again. Still, the shadow hadn't changed. Along the white floor, it stretched far back into a corner, receding until it was little more than a thin sliver.

But it was pointing somewhere.

Ino whirled around, looking for place it pointed, but the landscape was as blank as ever. In the light of her reality, there were no shadows.

She frowned slightly, turning back to the mirror. The shadow was still there, stretching obstinately into the distant.

Within moments, Ino knew what she needed to do.

Keeping her gaze locked firmly on the shadow in the mirror, she took a tentative step backward toward where the shadow should have been.

In the mirror, the shadow shrunk just the slightest bit.

Walking at an angle, Ino continued to travel backwards, watching as the shadow slowly shrunk. The further away she got, the more the mirror seemed to focus. When she was no more than ten paces away, the reflections in the mirror had stopped changing, and a blurry figure stood over the shadow, her blonde hair framing her face messily, her temple sporting a red and brown blotch.

The slightest hint of a smile crossed her face.

As she progressed, she got bolder, moving faster and faster, following the shadow. In the mirror, it had become little more than a sliver; a few more steps and it would be nothing at all. She took one step, then another, and then the shadow was gone, but there was something solid behind her.

Ino ran her hands along the surface of the wall, trying to suppress her excitement, lest this be nothing more than another trap. But her hand closed around a knob, and she heard a creak. She could have screamed with joy.

In her haste to back through the door, she failed to notice the lip at the bottom of the doorframe. Her heel caught and she tumbled backward. Acting on pure instinct, she stuck her hands out behind her.

There was a sickening crack, and then darkness.

* * *

Shizune had almost finished her notes when she heard the crack. She had been circling the hospital room for the better part of an hour, making observations to report to Lady Tsunade when she returned. Despite the fact that she had covered every inch of the room, it took her a moment to recognize the source of the sound.

She had noted the swelling in Ino's wrist, but at the time, it hadn't seemed like anything particularly severe. However, the purpling bruises that were now appearing, coupled with the lump that looked distinctly like a bone doing its best to break through the skin, were definitely cause for concern.

Abandoning her notes, Shizune rushed out the door, hoping Tsunade had not gone too far.

* * *

_The feeling of a reassuring hand recedes just as quickly as it appeared. In the semi-darkness, he puts his head down, and watches the candlelight flicker._


	6. Interlude: Places Between

_A shock, like a bolt of lightning, strikes out of the darkness. He jumps, sees the source as it flickers—_

_Her flame is dwindling._

* * *

When Choji returned to the hospital after a long night of restless sleep, he expected to find it much as he had left it: full of a tense silence, but otherwise docile and static.

What he found did not quite meet his expectations.

In the doorway of the room housing Shikamaru and Ino, a team of two medics stood like statues, listening to the orders of a frazzled Shizune. The Hokage's normally immaculate assistant had enormous dark circles ringing her eyes, and her black hair looked windswept. Her gaze swept over Choji as she bellowed orders, but she did not seem to see him. Only when he caught her elbow did she turn to him, her mouth curled into a snarl.

"What?" she snapped. Her expression softened as recognition sunk in, and she hastily corrected herself. "Forgive me. I'm just a little stressed. What is it, Choji?"

Choji took a step back, not ready to be on the wrong side of Shizune's temper. "I was just wondering what was going on."

Shizune frowned. "I don't—" Her gaze became suddenly focused on a point behind him, and she yelled an order over Choji's head to a pale mouse of a man who had just come out of the room. The attendant scrambled down the hallway and through another door.

She turned back to him, looking vaguely perturbed. "What was I saying?"

"What's going on?" Choji pressed. Another of the medics ducked into the room and quickly came back out; as the medic passed him, Choji's stomach flipped.

"I don't know that I can say, actually." Shizune sighed, her voice thick with fatigue. Up close, Choji could see that Shizune's eyes were bloodshot, as though she hadn't been sleeping.

"But are they... okay?" Choji tried not to sound desperate, but the words squeaked out. Medical confidentiality he understood, but these were his teammates. He needed to know _something_.

Shizune glanced around them distractedly, as if looking for someone. "You haven't seen Tsunade, have you?"

Choji couldn't tell whether she had purposefully circumvented his question or just not heard it, but either way, he could tell he wouldn't be getting much information from Shizune unless he helped her.

"I haven't. Does someone need to go find her?"

"Would you?" The relief in her voice was palpable. "We need her here immediately."

No sooner had Choji nodded his agreement than Shizune was practically pushing him out the door, gushing her thanks. In a matter of moments, he was up the stairs and out the front doors of the hospital.

Setting off down the path, Choji could only hope that he would find the Hokage sooner rather than later.

* * *

_It was a garden, a flower garden. They were six years old, and she was twisting garlands while he lay beneath the tree, his eyes half-closed against the dappled sunlight that filtered through the leaves. The whole place glowed with the radiance of mid-spring._

_She leaned down from her perch on the tree branch and dropped the garland, watching as it floated down to cover his mouth and ears, catching in the dark, tangled tufts of his hair. His eyelids quivered and his nose twitched, until one lazy brown eye opened to stare up at her. In his attempt to remove the garland, he disturbed the pollen within one of the flowers, getting it caught up in his nostrils._

_He sneezed. She giggled._

" _Ino."_

_The exasperation in his voice only made her giggle more._

" _Ino, why can't you just leave me alone?"_

_She dangled one of her unfinished garlands down toward him._

" _Because I like you, and you_ never _pay any attention to me."_

_The little boy frowned._

" _Ino, you know this isn't right. Why can't you just leave me alone?"_

_And suddenly, the voice had changed, and she wasn't looking down at a little boy, but at a full grown man, and he was smoking a cigarette, and the smoke was stinging her eyes. And she wasn't sitting above him either, but somewhere next to him, or maybe lying down, but she couldn't tell, because her wrist was stinging so badly and her head just kept radiating pain, pain, pain…_

" _I-I… I don't know."_

" _Ino, why can't you just leave me alone?"_

_He growled the question this time, and it confused and upset her, because why was he growling, what had she done, and wouldn't this pain in her head go away?_

" _Ino, you have to tell me."_

" _I can't." She whimpered. "I'm tired and you don't like me anyway. I just want to sleep."_

_She closed her eyes, and she could almost feel it—the relief of being away from this place of coldness and confusion, back to somewhere that was warm, where the pain stopped and people didn't ask her questions…_

"Ino."

_It was like someone had touched her arm—she could feel him then, feel him pulling her away from the warmth and the stupor. She wanted to struggle, but something was nagging at her…_

" _Ino, why can't you leave me alone?"_

" _Because you're lost, you baka."_

_Like a bucket of cold water dumped over her head, clarity returned. Her eyelids flickered open, and she looked into dark eyes that stared back at her with something that passed for relief._

" _You can't stay here." Shikamaru said, as gently as she had ever heard him. "This isn't real."_

_She snorted._ " _None of this is real. It's all in_ your _head."_

" _Real enough." He gestured to her wrist; it was swollen and the skin discolored, sprained if not broken._

"' _S your fault." She mumbled, and he chuckled, the sound rumbling in the air around them._

" _It's hard to keep control of your mind when you're…" He stopped, and his eyes glazed over for a moment, as if he had forgotten what he was saying._ " _It's troublesome," he concluded, as if there had been no lapse in his words._

_Ino felt a savage anger well up within her._ " _I need your help, you lazy-ass! I can't do this on my own."_

_He fixed her with a stare._ " _I've never known you to back down from a challenge. You can."_

_She didn't believe him, but for once, she didn't feel like arguing._

" _You need to get going, though. If you stay here too long…" He trailed off, frowning. "Well, I don't know what will happen. You need to move on."_

* * *

It took half an hour of searching the village street by street, but Choji finally spotted Tsunade exiting a familiar door. She was still talking with Ino's mother as she stepped out into the road, her face drawn and grave. Mrs. Yamanaka looked as calm as ever, but the lines in her face seemed deeper than the last time Choji had seen her. He jogged the rest of the way down the street.

"Tsunade-sama!" Both women turned at the sound of his voice, and though Tsunade's frown deepened, Mrs. Yamanaka gave a small smile to her daughter's childhood friend.

"What is it, Choji?" Tsunade sounded as weary as Shizune had looked. He was almost too hesitant to tell her what was going on in front of Ino's mother, but urgency won out and he stumbled through the explanation. Tsunade's eyes widened as he spoke, but Mrs. Yamanaka's face remained a mask of impassivity.

When he finished, Tsunade turned to Mrs. Yamanaka. "You're welcome to come, if you like. You won't be allowed in the room, but we have an observation chamber set up."

Mrs. Yamanaka considered for a moment, then shook her head. "If anything happens, you know where to find me. I think it best not to complicate matters, and I've told you what I know."

With a brief nod, Tsunade turned back to Choji.

"Let's go."

* * *

By the time they arrived, the chaos had slowed to a crawl, and Shizune looked a fraction less frazzled. She handed Tsunade the chart as they walked into the observation room, and Tsunade immediately set to asking her questions.

Choji, in the meantime, had gravitated toward the window to gaze at his two teammates. Ino looked worse for the wear. Shizune had bandaged her head and her wrist and attempted to mop up the trail of blood that had run down her face. She looked paler than usual. His stomach churned, and he realized that it had been hours since he had last eaten.

"… and she's stable?" He caught the end of the conversation between Tsunade and Shizune.

"We think so," Shizune answered, but there was still a hint of uncertainty in her voice. "Only time will tell."

Choji glanced at Tsunade, the trepidation in his voice belying any attempt at confidence.

"So, we wait?"

Tsunade sighed.

"We wait."

* * *

_The candle roars back, and he is once again entranced, lulled to sleep by the gentle movement of the flame._

_But in the darkness, a distant light is flickering._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2021! One of my resolutions for this year is to finally finish this. Fingers crossed I can keep to that! But also now that I've been rewatching, I've had a couple ideas for other fics. So I may have more things in the works. We'll see. 
> 
> Once again, every comment I've gotten on this fic brings me such joy and it's been a delight to hear from every single one of you.


	7. A Game of Strategy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of the two of them, she was never the strategist.

_The shadow is flickering. Even in the darkness, he can see it stretching, itching to find the source of the flame, a brightness against which the shadows can thrive._

* * *

Ino opened her eyes to pitch darkness. If not for the solid presence of the floor beneath her fingers, she would have sworn that she was still unconscious, that this was just some strange, demented fantasy of her sleeping mind.

 _But, no…_ she realized as she sat up. _I'm still here. This is still his mind._

At the edge of her consciousness, the wisps of a memory tugged at her, but she couldn't make sense of it. Something to do with Shikamaru and smoke and… Her head was still fuzzy. Maybe it was nothing.

As she sat up, the space lightened, revealing a room much smaller than any of the ones she had been in previously. The walls and floors were white, and the space was empty of furniture. There was not even any evidence of the door that she'd fallen through.

Running her fingers along the floor to reassure herself that she wasn't just imagining it, Ino couldn't shake a nagging familiarity about this place. It almost looked like…

The pieces snapped into place almost too quickly, and Ino scrambled to her feet, spinning around to confirm her realization. The white walls, the starkness… it was the room in the hospital.

Panic pulsed through her.

"Shikamaru? Shikamaru, are you here?"

Was she awake now? She had just assumed, since she had woken up alone, that she was still in his head. That it had only been a temporary blackout, that she had gotten herself back under control. But what if she hadn't? A second wave of panic washed over her as the implications became clear. If she was here, in the hospital room, and Shikamaru wasn't, did that mean she'd failed? Had she been kicked out of his head without actually finding him?

Or worse... had she done irreparable damage in her attempts to save him?

"Oh no." She whispered. "Oh, no, no, no… I can't have screwed this up, I—"

In the midst of her rambling, a noise sounded behind her. It echoed strangely in the small space, and there was no denying—it had definitely come from _inside_ the room.

Setting aside her panic for a moment, Ino whirled on her heel, unsure of what she was about to see.

In the center of the room, a shogi table sat on its side. The game pieces were scattered across the floor, as though someone had thrown them there in a fit of rage. But as for the culprit… there was none to be found.

Scanning the room carefully, Ino crept toward the table. She was alone in the room—that much was certain—so how…?

A wave of sudden relief rushed over her. This room, the sudden appearance of the table… "I'm still in his head," she muttered.

As she edged toward the mess in the center of the room, a familiar sight caught her eye. She recognized the shape of the pieces, the grain of the wood… though she'd never played with them herself, they were unmistakable.

"Asuma-sensei…"

She caught herself smiling slightly at the familiarity. It was many a long afternoon that she'd spent daydreaming about Sasuke while Asuma and Shikamaru played with this very set. Gently, as though carrying a child, Ino picked up the table and righted it, then swept the tiles all into a pile next to it.

Nothing happened.

Tapping her fingers anxiously against the surface of the table, she began to sort through the pieces, separating them by rank. When she had them cordoned them off properly, she began to set up the table.

She had seen the set up a thousand times—it was almost a mindless act, arranging the straight rows. She could picture Asuma-sensei, one hand lazily clutching his cigarette, the other slapping the pieces onto the board. The memory was lacking, though. Try as she might, she couldn't remember the explanations he gave, the various rules behind each placement. If she was being totally honest with herself, she really didn't even remember the names of most of the pieces, only the way the tiles looked when she set them on the board. She had always been more of a visual learner anyway—it came from years of arranging flowers. 

And shogi had never been a pastime of hers. It was Shikamaru's game, the one that once and for all sealed his genius in the eyes of their sensei. Even if she had wanted to try to play the game, she would have been poorly matched against her teammate. Asuma had never even bested him, so how could she have expected to even come close?

She had only ever taken in an interest in learning once, and that had been a total disaster. When Asuma-sensei was alive, she had gone on and on about how boring it was, but after his death, it just didn't seem right. One afternoon, while she'd been over at Shikamaru's to talk about an upcoming mission, she'd spotted the Shogi table off in the corner, and casually mentioned it. She had never expected Shikamaru to jump at the chance to teach her the game, but she also hadn't expected the vehemence of his refusal. In retrospect, she realized the mistake of her request. It had been too soon, that was certain—with Asuma's death only a few months behind them, Shikamaru still hadn't been ready to handle the memories associated so closely with their beloved sensei. Even aside from the pain of his loss, Ino recognized now that Shogi was, and always had been, out of her league. Even if Asuma had asked her early on to learn, she would have been too caught up in chasing Sasuke to even give a second glance to a game that was largely regarded as an old man's pastime. Now, much though she would have liked to learn, it was too late.

So she stared at the board, running her fingers over the smooth rows of tiles. They were well crafted and beautifully painted—not an overly ornate set, but clearly the careful work of an artist. She thought she remembered seeing this set in Shikamaru's room, and she vaguely wondered if Asuma had gifted it to him at some point.

Her fingers stopped on the king. The piece to be protected at all costs.

"Asuma's last words to you…" she breathed quietly, wondering if Shikamaru could even hear her. Four layers in, the idiot ought to be able to hear her, but who knew how many layers there even were?

"Is this it?" She mused aloud. "Is it some kind of puzzle about the king? Because, if it's not, and you want me to play a game of Shogi, you're going to be disappointed."

The silence gave her no answer. She picked the piece up off the board, turning it over in her hands where she sat.

"I don't know what you want, _baka_."

She could remember Asuma-sensei's words as easily as if they had been burned into her brain. It had taken her a while to pull them out of Shikamaru—the final words Asuma had whispered before he died.

_The "kings" are the unborn children who will grow up to take care of the Leaf._

But what relevance did that have here? Frustrated, Ino tossed the tile across the room. It clacked over the floor, coming to rest near the wall.

And a dark line spread out beneath the arc.

Ino stared at the path the tile had taken. In the middle of the stark white room, a shadow fell across the floor, stretching from Ino's hand to the tile. It was strangely reminiscent of the shadow from the mirror… which gave Ino an idea. Moving slowly, she followed it across the room. When she put a hand on the tile, the shadow vanished.

 _Just like the Shadow Possession,_ she thought.

It wasn't much to go on, but it was something. Racing back to the table, Ino sat cross-legged in front of it and replaced the tile. In the stillness, she tried to think. What would Shikamaru do?

 _Shikamaru was a planner. He would never do anything hasty, especially in a game of Shogi. No… Shikamaru would take time to plan. He would strategize…_ Images slowly clicked together.

Carefully, Ino assumed the pose she had seen him take so many times during games of Shogi. Fingertips together, palms facing inward, eyes closed… even as she completed the motion, it felt stupid. Sitting like Shikamaru was _not_ going to suddenly going to make her a Shogi master. What was the point of…?

Her eyes shot open as a familiar sensation crept over her, like ice inching up her spine. For a moment, her entire body was immobile. Then her hands were moving pieces against her will, responding to an invisible opponent across the table.

She could count on one hand the number of times she remembered having this technique performed on her. Though Shikamaru occasionally used Shadow Possession to defend her body from attacks while she was using the Mind-Body Transfer, she had spelled out in no uncertain terms that he was _not_ to use it on her while she was conscious, unless the situation was dire.

She supposed now was as dire a time as any.

The logic of it still escaped her though. If Shikamaru was trapped, how was he able to exert this control? And what on earth did it have to do with Asuma-sensei? She was certain there had to be some connection, but like the strategy of Shogi, it was clearly over her head.

She watched the board as her fingers moved of their own accord. She had witnessed enough games of Shogi to know that she was winning handily. _Trust it to Shikamaru,_ she thought wryly.

In a matter of minutes, the game had played itself out. Ino stared at the finished game, relieved. Shikamaru had guided her through all the moves. She was done.

But… didn't that mean something ought to happen?

The room stayed strangely silent, the tiles motionless.

* * *

Mrs. Yamanaka closed the door behind her guests, plunging the house back into silence. It was always quiet these days—while it had never exactly been a noisy household, between her husband's passing and Ino moving out to live on her own, the place almost seemed abandoned nowadays.

Mrs. Yamanaka sank into a chair, allowing her muscles to uncoil a bit. All of the effort that had gone into maintaining her composure while Tsunade was there quickly melted away. After her Inoichi's death, she had hoped that some of the constant fear would melt away, but it hadn't. Instead, she had just redirected her concern to worry about Ino more. It was her daughter's decision to become a shinobi—no one had forced it on her.

Still… a mother had a right to worry.

But now was not the time to succumb to worry. Taking a deep breath that failed to quell the shaking in her hands, Mrs. Yamanaka stood and walked down the hallway to the back of the house. Something about what Tsunade had said was nagging at her.

Entering the next to last door on the left, Mrs. Yamanaka moved immediately to the row of filing cabinets against the wall. When he was younger, she had teased Inoichi mercilessly about his habit of keeping useless records—journals of his battles, detailed diagrams of team formations, documents all the way from his days as a genin. For most shinobi, that much filed information would have been a nightmare, a security hazard of the highest order.

Now, however, she thought he might not have been so crazy.

The particular file she was searching for would be from back in his days as a Chunin. She remembered the incident as clearly as if it had been yesterday. She had gone to visit him in the hospital afterwards, holding his hand as he lay deathly still, despite the fact that he manifested no sign of outward injury. Then, she hadn't had the faintest inkling of what was actually happening to him. Though she hadn't told him about it at the time—they hadn't even been dating then—she could still clearly remember the burning fear in her gut, could see the guilt in the face of one Shikaku Nara when he'd come to visit. At the time, his expression seemed like the guilt of a teammate who had allowed his comrade to be injured.

In light of her daughter's current predicament and the information she'd given Tsunade about Inoichi's experience with mind-probing, his guilt struck Mrs. Yamanaka as something a bit different.

After a few minutes of searching, she came across the file she was looking for. It was a handwritten entry, scrawled across the page in Inoichi's neat script. The sight of his handwriting made her eyes sting a little, even now.

She read through it once, just to establish that it was the correct document. Satisfied, she went to find her coat and head out to the hospital.

* * *

Ino stared at the pieces remaining on the board, at a loss about what to do next. She could feel the jutsu slowly receding as a tingling sensation returned to her limbs. She flexed her fingers uncertainly, wincing when she moved her right wrist the wrong way.

 _Still injured._ She grimaced.

Finally, the last of the Shadow Possession dissipated. Though Ino usually would have been glad to be rid of the invasion of privacy, this time it felt like more of a loss. For at least that brief instant, she had felt like she wasn't undertaking this mission completely on her own—somehow, however briefly, she was connected to Shikamaru.

But now, in the quiet room, with full control of her body, staring at a shogi board that meant nothing to her, she felt more alone than ever.

Resting her forehead on her uninjured hand, she let out a long sigh.

"Thanks for the help, Shikamaru, but you really could stand to be a little more transparent."

"If there's one thing that boy is, it's definitely not transparent."

Ino's breath hitched.

_A-am I going crazy? That sounded like…_

She kept her head down, not daring to move it. Maybe that fall earlier had caused a more severe head injury than she imagined. Was it possible to have hallucinations within someone else's mind? She had never read about it, but this whole mission had been a series of firsts.

But that smell… Ino raised her head just slightly, breathing in the unmistakable scent of that particular brand of cigarette she knew so well.

Still skeptical of her senses, she dared to look up. A grinning face met her gaze. He waved genially at her from across the table, taking a drag of the cigarette in his hand.

"Hello, Ino."

She let out the breath she had been holding.

"Asuma-sensei?"

* * *

_The flame is brightening faster, a circle of light beating back the darkness. The shadows dance against the light._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! This has been a hard week for many, many reasons, but the support on this fic has made it easier to bear. Appreciate you all so very much.


	8. Legacies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar face helps Ino find the path forward.

_He sees the shadows on the floor, reaching out, almost touching before glancing away. Something is pulling. Against the light, he is beginning to see the reflections._

* * *

It was nearly six o'clock by the time Choji thought to get up and stretch his legs. Over the past few hours, the number of medic-nin had dwindled back to the usual two observers as well as Shizune. They bustled around the room every few minutes, checking monitors, making reports. No new injuries had been reported, to the relief of everyone involved with the mission.

Choji had chosen to remain in the observation room, despite Shizune's insistence that it wasn't necessary. Tsunade had stepped out earlier in the afternoon—just because her chief strategist had sustained a serious injury, it didn't preclude her from having to take care of her duties as the Hokage. She had promised to be back by five, but five o'clock had come and gone, and it had been nearly half an hour since Choji had finished his last bag of chips. As if to remind him of this fact, his stomach gave a pronounced rumble.

He frowned. Maybe it was time to go find something to eat. And as much as he wanted to remain in the observation room, just in case anything happened, he also realized that sitting around watching his two teammates really wouldn't do anything to help them.

He was sure he had seen a vending machine down the hallway earlier in the day. Following his instincts, he slipped out the door and past the medics on duty to search for something to tide him over. He hated to admit it, but he ate more when he was nervous. Particularly when his teammates weren't around to chide him for overeating.

Right at the moment, he would have given almost anything just to get yelled at by Ino or to have Shikamaru gently remind him that he was on his third bag of the hour.

The vending machine was right where he remembered, squirreled away in a little alcove three doors down from the room Shikamaru and Ino were in. It was fully stocked—everything from chocolate to chips stared back at him through the glass. But even as Choji glanced over the bright packages, he felt his hunger waning. Every time he thought he had come to a decision, the thought of Shikamaru's vacant eyes flashed across his mind. Trying his best to ignore the churning of his stomach, he finally settled on his usual flavor of chips. The little machine whirred and the package clunked heavily into the tray, a muted sound. He fished it out of the slot distractedly.

He walked back down the hallway, taking his time to return. It wasn't as though they needed him there. A small pop caught him by surprise—a tiny hole had opened in the bag. Maybe, he thought, he ought to relax his grip a little.

Choji had almost reached the observation room again when he caught strains of a conversation that carried down the corridor from the direction of the stairwell.

"…I just need to see Tsunade-sama. I have important information that I believe she would find helpful."

Mrs. Yamanaka's voice was instantly recognizable, quiet but insistent. Choji ambled over to the stairs, hoping to hear better.

The voice of a young man followed, verging on the edge of panic. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but she has requested that only authorized personnel be allowed beyond this point."

_Uh-oh._

Knowing the unfortunate fate that was about to befall the poor attendant if someone didn't intervene, Choji rushed up the stairs. In the bright fluorescent light of the hallway, a pale young man was walking backwards in an unsuccessful attempt to bar a tall, grim-faced woman from forcing her way toward the basement. Though Mrs. Yamanaka was a calm woman in many dire situations, a trait Choji had always admired, she looked as though her patience was about to expire. Fortunately for the medic, when she noticed Choji jogging toward them, Mrs. Yamanaka visibly lightened.

"Choji!" Mrs. Yamanaka said warmly. "Would you mind telling this young man who I am?"

The attendant turned, his expression not unlike many another man cowed by a formidable Yamanaka woman.

 _Like mother, like daughter_.

The attendant shrugged apologetically, gesturing at the chart in his hands.

"Akimichi-san, she insisted on seeing Tsunade. I told her…"

"Tsunade-sama will want to see her immediately," Choji corrected gently, glancing at the chart. He pointed to a line about halfway down the page. "See there? Yamanaka-san is her mother."

The attendant's mouth closed in a silent "oh" of apology, flushing as he recognized his mistake.

"I'm terribly sorry, Yamanaka-san. We can take you to see her right away."

"That's alright," Mrs. Yamanaka gave a quiet cough, which Choji knew to be a tacit expression of her displeasure. "I'm sure Choji can take me from here. Can't you, dear?"

The attendant paled noticeably.

"Yes, of course." Choji said, attempting a reassuring smile at the attendant. It didn't appear to take. The man was just as pale as ever.

"Very good." Before he could so much as say another word, the attendant scurried off down the hallway.

Mrs. Yamanaka turned back to Choji, bearing a strained smile. There were deeper lines in her face than Choji remembered.

"Thank you for your help, Choji. I'm afraid that poor little man would have kept me running in circles indefinitely if you hadn't shown up."

"It was the least I could do, Yamanaka-san." Choji shrugged ingratiatingly, directing Mrs. Yamanaka down the stairs toward the room where Ino and Shikamaru were.

As they walked, Choji realized he had no idea what to say. Mrs. Yamanaka had always intimidated him. Though she was much quieter than her boisterous daughter, she always maintained an air of calculated calm. How she and Inoichi had produced such a loud child was a constant mystery to everyone they knew.

Fortunately, Choji was spared having to come up with something to say in the nick of time. When Mrs. Yamanaka saw that he wasn't going to continue, she took the opportunity to revive the conversation. "How have you been, dear?"

"Worried," Choji blurted. He grimaced. That probably wasn't the best way to answer. "I mean… I've been alright. Just…"

"…concerned." Mrs. Yamanaka finished for him, offering a quiet smile. "I understand that you were on the mission with Shikamaru. With both your teammates working under such hazardous conditions and you unable to help them, I can imagine that would put you a bit on edge. Have you gone home to sleep?"

Choji flushed. It may have been months since he had seen her, but Mrs. Yamanaka still knew him better than many people. "I went home for a little while."

"Well, good." She nodded matter-of-factly. "I know Shikamaru and Ino would want you to take care of yourself, even if you are worried."

They had almost reached the door to the observation room before Choji thought seriously about the conversation she'd been having with the attendant.

"You said you had information for Tsunade-sama?"

"Yes," Mrs. Yamanaka murmured, gesturing at some papers in her hand. "She came to me asking for some information about Inoichi—well, you saw when you came to find her—but I didn't find what she was looking for until after she left. Still, I thought it might be helpful."

"She wasn't here when I walked out," Choji said apologetically, opening the door and ushering her inside, "but I'm sure she'll be back soon, and interested in seeing those papers. Do you want me to go try to find her?"

Mrs. Yamanaka had taken no more than three steps into the room when she stopped, her eyes fixed on the window into the room that housed her daughter. Ino looked even paler than before, and her head and right wrist were swathed in bandages. Shizune had ordered that an IV be set up, which was now pumping fluids into Ino's uninjured arm.

Choji couldn't exactly imagine what Mrs. Yamanaka was feeling, but he had a good idea. The tiniest flicker of concern broke through her mask of calm.

"Yes," she answered finally, her voice almost inaudible, "I think it might be best for her to see this immediately."

* * *

Ino stumbled to find terms—some words, _any_ words—to process the sight in front of her, but they weren't coming easily. The laughing eyes… the slumped posture… everything down to the way he held his cigarette. There was no doubt that the man sitting across from her was Asuma Sarutobi. Here. _How is he here?_

"You're wondering how I'm here," Asuma said with a rumbling laugh, scratching at his dark beard. Smoke curled in thin wisps from the tip of his cigarette.

"Well, that's creepy," Ino mumbled. The comment was mostly for her own benefit, but a small part of her hoped Shikamaru could hear it, just so he might get some small idea of how ridiculous his mind was.

"Yes, I was wondering that," she answered.

"Think about it, Ino," Asuma prodded, taking a drag. "You're a smart girl. Albeit a little boy-crazed…"

Ino let out a little huff of annoyance, reaching forward to smack his shoulder. The reflex was automatic, something she had done a thousand times over, every time Asuma-sensei teased her about Sasuke, or being late to practice because she had been putting on makeup.

But this time, her hand didn't connect. She was thrown a little off balance as her open palm passed straight through his arm, colliding with the floor instead.

_He's just a projection._

"That was completely uncalled for," she said, giving him a contemptuous look.

The image of her sensei merely chuckled.

"Besides," Ino continued quietly, "I'd like to think I've got a better head on my shoulders now than I did back then."

Asuma's smile fell slightly. He cleared his throat, readjusting his cigarette.

"That's true. But that's also beside the point."

"Right," she said, cutting straight to the chase, "you're here because… well, because you're our sensei. You're probably the person Shikamaru most looks up to of anyone in the village." She gestured at the board. "And you taught him how to play Shogi. Why _wouldn't_ you be here?"

The last question came out a bit more sarcastically than she intended. Still, the more Ino thought about it, the less comfortable it made her. Staring at the face of her sensei before her, she wasn't certain exactly _what_ she was talking to. A preserved memory of Asuma? Or some amalgam of memories, tied in with Shikamaru's subjective views of him? Either way, it wasn't as though she was back in training, having a casual conversation with her sensei. This was just another facet of Shikamaru's mind, as much as the game of Shogi or the mirrors or the cave of possibilities.

The realization pained her. It was so easy to slip back into old patterns, preserving the friendly, teasing rapport she had shared with her sensei in quiet moments. How many days had she longed to have just one more conversation with him, to seek his advice about any number of missions, to tease him when he came into the flower shop to buy a bouquet for Kurenai? Hell, she even wished she could have one more conversation about Sasuke with him, just to see him roll his eyes one more time.

But now was not the time for nostalgia.

"So why are you here?" She watched as he fiddled with his cigarette, his hand movements ghosts of the habits she knew so well. If this was merely a subjective projection, Shikamaru had constructed it pretty damn well.

"To help you out, apparently. Your teammate seems to think you need it."

"Oh, so you can communicate with my absent teammate, can you?" she said, a bitter bite to her tone. "Well, you can tell him that if his unreasonable brain weren't such a labyrinthine mess, I might not—"

Asuma—despite the fact that he was merely a projection, she couldn't think of him any other way—held up a hand to stop her, though his smirk seemed to suggest that he agreed with her.

"Doesn't quite work like that. It's… how do I describe it?" He rubbed his beard. "I'm just a cog in the machine of his brain. I can respond to you as an extension of your memories and his. And I can respond to him, insofar as he's capable of doing anything right at the moment…"

Ino jumped on that statement. "So do you know what's happened to him?"

Asuma frowned, making an indistinct gesture. "Once again, I don't really have a clear picture of the full problem. I only know things aren't working quite as they should. He's… lost. Not all there. Your being here is helping though. The pieces are clicking better."

Ino sighed. That wasn't anything close to an explanation. Lost? If he was lost in the depths of his own mind, how was she supposed to help him?

Still, she considered, it was nice to know that all of her efforts so far hadn't been entirely in vain.

"And this?" Ino gestured at the finished game of Shogi in front of her. "He walked me through it. I know he did. And I won because of his help. But now what?"

"Think about it, Ino." Asuma shifted, sitting so that one of his elbows was resting on his knee. He looked at her searchingly. "What's missing here?"

"I…" She stared at the tiles. The smooth wood reflected an unseen light source, but they were just pieces. They revealed no secrets, no hidden symbols. On instinct, her mind kept running back to Asuma's last words, but they made no sense here. The king… children… How was thinking of Konoha's future supposed to help her move forward here?

"I don't know." She conceded, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "I just don't know. And I don't know why I even would. It's a wonder I've even made it this far. Shikamaru basically had to hold my hand through the Shogi game, so how does he expect me to solve this?"

Asuma opened his mouth to speak, but by that point, Ino was too distraught to notice. She lowered her head into her hands, shaking it back and forth.

"I'm not the genius. I never have been. I guarantee you, if my father had been alive, I would never even have been picked for this mission. I don't know what Tsunade and everyone else expect of me, but whatever it is, I can't do it. Clearly. I'm out of my depth."

She practically squeaked out the last syllable, her voice catching on the lump in her throat. The telltale stinging of her eyes meant tears probably weren't too far behind, though how on earth she was producing tears was still beyond her. She chuckled wetly. Everything else on this miserable mission was beyond her understanding, so why shouldn't that be too?

"Ino."

Asuma's voice was so tender it was almost inaudible. While it ought to have been a comfort, that only made her want to cry harder. 

Ino swallowed the lump in her throat, but didn't dare to look up, lest she let the tears escape. "What?"

"Tsunade picked you for this mission for a reason."

"Because I'm his teammate." She intoned, speaking the mantra she had been feeding herself over and over again every step of this journey. "Because…" she choked on something that was half-laugh, half-sob, "because I _know_ him."

"Because you do know him." Asuma reinforced. "And because you're the most capable shinobi in your field. Tsunade would never have assigned you to this if she did not have absolute trust in your abilities, Shikamaru's teammate or not. She knows that you are capable—and so does everyone else."

Ino closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to re-center herself. The idea that she was the best in her field seemed laughable, but now was not the time to let her insecurities get the better of her. When had she become so weak that she allowed one moment of difficulty to cripple her completely? This was _not_ acceptable.

"Okay. Fine. Maybe she does think—"

" _Know._ "

"— _know_ I'm capable. And maybe everyone else in the village does too." Ino chuckled at the absurdity of the notion, but let the words slip out anyway. For now, she had to believe them. "But that doesn't mean that I'm a match for Shikamaru. You said it yourself, over and over again. Shikamaru's a mental giant. And I'm no slouch, but… I'm not a genius."

"You've put up with the boy for years longer than most people." Asuma smiled. "And the Ino I know could always hold her own against anyone, shinobi or not." He cleared his throat, taking on a more serious tone. "Besides, you are both essential to the survival of this village."

"Hmph." Ino snorted softly. "Right. Both of us have to protect the 'kings.'"

Absently, she shifted the remaining tiles on the board. A few across the top, then down… When she removed her hand, the character for "child" stared back at her, centered around the king.

"We can't protect anyone if we're both trapped here." She said resolutely, staring at the image. "We have to work together to get out of here. To carry on the legacy of the Leaf." She smiled gently. "We're your legacy, after all. As much your children as anyone else."

"Exactly."

Ino's head perked up. She thought she'd heard the hint of something hopeful in his voice. It was confirmed by the broad grin that stretched across his face.

Across the table, Asuma reached out a scarred hand. For the briefest moment, Ino could have sworn she felt the touch of a palm on her cheek.

"No doubt about it." He laughed quietly. "I had the smartest bunch of students anyone could ask for."

The image was fading quickly, becoming more insubstantial by the second. Ino reached out a hand, even though she knew it was pointless. Asuma-sensei gave her one last smile before he melted away entirely.

 _A projection of Shikamaru's mind_ , she reminded herself. Still, she couldn't stop a few tears from slipping out this time.

Once again, Ino found herself alone in the room. Giving one last glance to the shogi table and the place where Asuma-sensei had sat only moments earlier, she moved toward the wall of the room.

"Okay, Shika," she mumbled, "I'm going to have to trust you with this. I get it now. We're part of sensei's legacy, so we have to work together.

"I have to trust you. Like a child…" She grimaced, the irony not lost on her.

She placed her hands on the wall, slowly closing her eyes. In her mind's eye, she could see the room that Shikamaru kept the shogi board in, down to the last detail. A small room with a sliding door—very simple, nothing showy. She could almost feel the rice-paper screens, feel the warmth of the sunlight filtering through them. If she just slid it aside…

Beneath her fingertips, the wall moved.

* * *

_The flame burns steadily onward._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for all the love. It means more than you know. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! A quick note here: this is not a totally new work. This is a chapter-by-chapter repost of a work I started seven years ago (yikes) as Senka Hitomi on ff dot net. I'm proud enough of the work that has gone into this story to want to give it a new life over here on AO3. I've made efforts to clarify details and clean up some of the more awkward writing without changing the overall shape of each chapter, so it's not exactly a one-to-one transfer, but it is quite close to the original. I'll be posting the existing chapters on a rolling basis, and then hopefully post a couple new chapters here to finally finish up the work. 
> 
> My hope is that this will allow some new readers to find the story, and perhaps also some old readers to rediscover it. 
> 
> I will also warn any readers coming into this for the first time that the ship is largely peripheral to the plot. Anyway, hope you all enjoy!


End file.
